


Alpha Mike Foxtrot

by Arthur0098



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Accurate Historical Slang, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Vietnam, Entrapta/Hordak (She-Ra) - Freeform, Entraptadak, Historical Accuracy, Historical language, This isn't any high school AU, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21601591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arthur0098/pseuds/Arthur0098
Summary: Alpha Mike Foxtrot- US Military slang. when used in garrison, it can be a friendly farewell. On the battlefield it's another sort of farewell.For two friends thrust into a meaningless war they barely understand for reasons they can't comprehend, it's a phrase uttered all too often by those they never see again. It's something the girl named Catra feared would be the last she would hear when her best friend goes beyond the wire and doesn't come back.They speak the words, the ideology of communism, capitalism, and domino theory, but they don't understand the meaning. Alpha Mike Foxtrot is all they truly understand. The promise they made to one another.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	Alpha Mike Foxtrot

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: This piece uses period-accurate slang and terminology, some of which may be offensive in today's world.

The deep _whup-whup-whup_ of the UH-1 helicopters flying overhead drove adrenaline into the American crews manning the deadly vehicles, and fear into the people below. A whole squadron of the aircraft came roaring over the Vietnamese foothills like a swarm of angry wasps, sending the farmers in the rice patties below sprinting for the main village.

Staff Sergeant Catra bared her teeth as she watched them run, and adjusted her grip on the handle above her, leaning further out of the aircraft.

Sometimes she didn’t know why she hadn’t joined the Air Force. This was the life, flying overhead, watching the little bastards run. Although considering the casualty rates for slicks, she wasn’t _all_ envious.

She adjusted her helmet and looked at the village in the center of the valley. Even over the rotors she could just barely hear the bells ringing. It didn’t _look_ like an NVA or VC base, but they never did. They always looked harmless.

A large hand tugged at her vest, pulling her back inside the helo. Catra spared a glare at her friend Sergeant Scorpia, one of their platoon's squad leaders, who shrugged and pointed at the pilots.

There was a wash of radio static, “ _We’re in range. Fox four, fox four._ ”

Around them, the squadron belonging to the 1st Cavalry Division spread out just enough to give their wingmen a clear field of fire. A massive barrage of fire of unguided rockets, machine gun fire, and cannon fire tore at the outskirts of the village.

The door gunners in the sides of Catra’s slick opened fire themselves, knocking down any squint in the fields below who looked at them funny. Not that many were even looking. Most of them had gone for cover.

“Yeah, get some!” a gunner yelled.

Catra racked the bolt on her M16A1 back, but resisted the urge to fire, as much as she wanted to. For the moment at least.

They wanted to mess with her people? Wanted to kidnap the lieutenant? They’d soon regret it.

She glanced about the passenger cabin one last time to check that everyone was ready. They loaded their weapons, checked their helmet straps, or made their prayers.

Almost all of the people in the compartment were female. There were a handful of men, but that was quite unusual for this unit.

  
  


Women weren’t allowed in the army for the most part. They were too delicate, it was all too dangerous, it requires too much work, all the usual crap they’d heard growing up despite how many women were in the workforce. But with the way the war was being received back home, all sorts of things were being tried to keep morale and support for the war up.

Ever since the first woman in space had been a Red, noises had been made about how sexist the whole system was. How could the great western world be greater than the Soviets if they’re the ones sending women into hostile territory, while the Americans still put their women in nice little boxes? They’d served in every war America had been part of, and shown no less courage. Why couldn’t they fight?

Some genius in the Pentagon, probably a WWII veteran, got involved in the committees deciding this sort of thing. They knew how many women had served fighting the Germans and the Japanese, they’d heard about the Mercury 13 back in 1959, and had been a fan of the Tuskegee Airmen.

They came up with the brilliant idea to field a few all-female infantry platoons, to boost morale, show the troops everyone was supporting them, and to show Charlie what for.

Naturally, this plan was shot down an awful lot, and everything had been against it.

Yet somehow, _someone_ got it through. It could have been a clerical error, maybe the people voting on it were drunk at the time.

Whatever the case, _somehow_ the proposal got pushed through, _somehow_ they didn’t get eaten alive by the press, _somehow_ several women managed to meet the army’s “high standards”, and the unit came into existence. It was even racially integrated, and even had a female commanding it.

Catra couldn’t help but feel it had all been some sort of gag. Like they pushed them in just to prove a point. Whoever had pushed through the proposal was probably laughing, _knowing_ women wouldn’t be able to pass the tests. They figured they’d give them every chance, give the liberals their racial integration, their proper equipment, give them everything they wanted, just to “prove” they were right for all time. A chance to say “see? Look at those poor creatures! They’re not fit for combat! We did our best, but such is the curse of their gender!”

She was certain she and some of her unit had been selected on the basis of being a really good sob story. How these poor women, growing up with so little, rose above their base weaknesses and overcame obstacles to rise to the top.

She knew the bubble would burst sometime, that the unit would win a little too much, so she figured she’d enjoy herself while she could. And break a few noses if they tried to touch anything.

  
  


The helicopters tore their way over the village, splitting up to make their own passes. There was an utter mess over the radio, jargon and babble overlapping, that the pilots were somehow able to make sense of. They fired at the taller buildings, anything that looked like a foxhole, or even just to disperse large groups of the natives.

The Huey carrying Catra’s squad banked around a large courtyard area on the edge of the village, and several of the soldiers in Catra’s squad added their fire to the door gunners.

“Run, Charlie!” roared a PFC on the opposite side of the troop compartment, her short dreadlocks billowing under her helmet as she fired her rifle at ground targets.

“Quit wasting ammo, Lonnie!” Catra yelled, “We’re gonna need it!”

“ _We’ve spotted a fifty-caliber in the corner of that courtyard_.” an observation helicopter reported over the radio.

“Roger that, we’ll take care of it.” one of Catra’s pilots said.

Lonnie made a smug face at the sergeant, and reloaded her rifle.

“You gonna put us down somewhere?!” Catra demanded, looking at the cockpit, “We’ve got people to rescue!”

The helicopter wheeled around again, the door gunners mowing down the crew operating the fifty-caliber gun in the courtyard. They fired on the surrounding area, suppressing any other insurgents.

The helicopter descended into the courtyard, sending dust into the air, “Touchdown! Good luck down there!”

The squad debarked rapidly; Scorpia lifting her gun, Rogelio lugging an M60 machine gun, Lonnie and Kyle with their rifles, Entrapta pulling on her radio, and the other people Catra didn’t bother to remember going out the other side. After the losses they'd taken before they'd lost the lieutenant, there were even more of those than usual.

There weren’t any clear targets, thankfully. A hot LZ was always a pain. Several more slicks dove in to take the first one's place, disgorging the rest of the platoon of good old American infantry.

“Let’s go, torch any arms caches you find, shoot anyone who looks at you funny!! Scorpia, Entrapta, first squad, with me! Lonnie, take second squad that way! Third squad, _that_ way!”

Fires raged across the village, thick black smoke columns already beginning to rise.

Rapidly, but carefully, the squad swept through the village, watching for spider holes and booby traps. The enemy did not engage them directly, even less than they usually did. Most seemed to be just running or trying to put out flames.

They arrested everyone they could get their hands on regardless. They were all potential combatants.

Entering a main street, Catra immediately ducked back into cover as a burst of fire ripped across the dirt in front of her.

“Looks like Charlie's finally awake!” She said with a strange almost gleeful look in her eyes.

“Sounds like just an AK, staff sergeant!” Scorpia reported, “might not even need a blooper!”

“Yeah, if we weren't stuck in this alleyway! Entrapta, get someone to give us a pass right up this street! Danger-close!”

The girl hugging the wall nodded, and pulled the handset off her PRC-77 radio transmitter, “Klondike, this is Blue 1. Need fire on the main street. Soft target. Danger-close! Fire for effect! Over.”

“ _This is Klondike 2. Main street. Soft target. Danger close. I gotcha. Hang on to your hats. Fox four, Fox four.”_

A Huey went by, it's guns chattering so fast they could hardly make out individual reports.

Catra held a mirror out of cover, and couldn't see anyone in that rising dust cloud. She stuck her head out, and saw a shredded AK-47 lying next to a limp hand just barely sticking out from behind the cover of a large cart.

“Target is dust. Blue 1 out.” Entrapta reported.

“ _Let us know if you need any more help. Klondike 2 out._ ”

  
  


“Let's go!” The squad advanced across the street into another cluster of buildings.

“There should be a big open space around here,” Scorpia said as they ran, “recon says they saw them moving equipment in there, but couldn't see where it went, so there's probably tunnels in there!”

“Alright, we'll clear it out for the tunnel rats!” Catra gasped.

There was the thumping of grenade launchers in the distance, the chatter of assault rifles, and the smoke was becoming thicker. The helicopters kept running passes. Where was the enemy? All they kept finding was civvies! How come so few were fighting back?

Cowards. Hiding among their own people. Everyone was a potential suspect because of them. Wasn't the US’ fault at all.

The alleyway opened up on the courtyard, and the squad raised their weapons as they spotted the crowd standing inside.

A few dozen ragged villagers like the rest, all screaming and shrieking in fear. They tried to run toward one of the exits, but the Americans moved too fast.

“Dung lai! Dung lai!!” Catra yelled, shouldering her rifle, and turned her head toward the squad, “Fireteam Charlie, check them for weapons, and get them back to the LZ! Bravo, check the area for tunnels and torch the houses!”

Suddenly someone rushed into the courtyard from another exit, colliding with and knocking over the trooper, a private named Kyle, who had been watching it and was distracted.

A battered longbow clattered to the ground in the impact, and the dark-skinned figure had a quiver strapped to his back. He groaned and noticed who he was on top of. Then he looked up and saw who he was in front of.

“Merde!” He squeaked, and scrambled back as the grunts raised their weapons.

Catra was about to squeeze the trigger when someone else appeared from the exit, wearing a familiar uniform.

A blonde Caucasian woman in a tattered US Army uniform jumped in front of the black man(more a boy really, Catra realized), and held up her hands, “Hold your fire! Hold your fire!”

She fished dog tags out of her collar, “US Army! First Cavalry Division, American! Garryowen! Hamburgers, coke, and apple pie! Lieutenant--!”

Catra raised her rifle and pushed the brim of her helmet up, “Adora?! Is that you?”

The lieutenant's arms dropped a little as her eyes widened in surprise, “Catra?! Scorpia? Entrapta? All of you?!”

Behind her, the black boy got to his feet and disappeared before anyone could grab him, or even take a shot.

Catra rushed forward and nearly knocked Adora over with the force of her embrace, “You jerk, where have you been?”

She stepped back, noting Adora's appearance. Her flak vest was missing, as was her helmet, and from the knees down she was filthy, but the lieutenant was otherwise unharmed.

The staff sergeant grinned, and waved her hands a bit to either side of her, “‘Cover for me, Catra, I'm just going to take a look around’! The colonel's been freaking out since you disappeared! How'd you end up all the way out here? Did you just get captured--?”

Adora shook her head, and grabbed Catra by the shoulders, “No time! You've gotta help me call off this attack! This isn't a hostile village! There's no insurgents here! Just innocent people!”

Catra glanced at the crowd of people they were pushing out of the courtyard, and laughed a little, “Yeah, right, innocent people who kidnapped a US Army officer! Now c'mon, I'll call for an extraction, the colonel's gonna kill us if we don't get you back--!”

She tried to lead her friend and superior away by the shoulder, but Adora twisted out of her grip. She narrowed her gaze somberly at Catra.

“No, Catra. We-- I can't! Not until we stop this! C'mon, help me!”

“What are you saying?” Catra demanded, sticking a finger in her ear with a shocked expression, “I didn't lose my hearing, did I?!”

“This is wrong, Catra! They're innocent people! They don't even know what Communism _is_ , let alone capitalism! They're just hungry! All of them are like that! They're just scared and hungry!”

For a moment, Catra was speechless. She didn't say anything. Then her face became angry, “So that's why the .50 Cal shot at us?! Right, of course! Did you hit your head?! What's the matter with you?!” Catra demanded.

“We opened fire on them!” Adora barked, “They’ve been trying to defend themselves from _us_ , and the ARVN! They don't hate America, or capitalism, they hate the ARVN for their oppression and they hate us for helping them! They told me it's like that across the entire goddamn country!”

“Oh, _they_ told you?! So you're listening to the enemy now instead of the mother fucking chain of command?!”

“They've been lying to us! Everyone has been! Or most of them! They've been manipulating us, the politicians, the officers, the colonel, everyone! They've been manipulating us since this war started, hell, since we were kids! Even Ms Weaver!”

Catra was silent again, eyes wide as she stared at Adora. The chatter of guns and the crackle of the fires dueled in the background.

“ _Duh_!” She shouted, cuffing Adora on the shoulder, “Manipulation is Ms Weaver's whole thing! She's been messing with our heads since we got to that orphanage! It's why we joined the army in the first place! To get away from that crazy bitch!”

Adora squinted a little, staring at her friend in utter disbelief. “How could you possibly be okay with that?” she asked softly. Or at least as softly as possible over the ambient noise.

Catra reached out, slinging her rifle and putting her hands on Adora’s shoulders this time, “It doesn’t matter what they do. We look out for each other, right?”

She looked around, wincing and releasing a sigh, “Look, maybe we screwed up, but soon, we’ll be calling the shots. We’re gonna fix it. Now c’mon, can we please go?”

Adora took one look at one of their squadmates nearby. She had not been listening, and was standing on her toes to touch her Zippo lighter to a nearby roof.

Her expression became one of determination, “No. I can’t go yet! We’ve gotta stop this! Help me! Please!”

Catra’s look of confusion and frustration started leaning toward the latter, “You’re really buying what they’re selling, aren’t ya? You go beyond the wire, you get nabbed by them and talk to them for a few hours, and you’re going to throw _everything_ away?! Scorpia, I can’t tell, is the lieutenant’s head bleeding? She’s gotta be concussed, right?! Commie brainwashing? What the hell happened to you?”

Adora’s mouth tightened, “I don’t know, but I have to do something! I’m sorry, Catra!”

She shoved past her, “Entrapta, call those slicks and tell them-- _ungh_!”

The M16 bashing into the base of her neck sent the lieutenant face-forward into the surprised radio operator’s feet.

Scorpia and Entrapta looked at her, then to Catra, her rifle still held in both hands, with wide eyes almost astonished at what she did. She looked down at Adora moaning on the ground.

She stepped forward, nudging Adora’s stomach, “Oh, shit! That was a _lot_ harder than I thought! You okay?”

Adora moaned again, and tried to get to her feet.

With an odd shudder, Catra kicked her in the gut, but half heartedly as if she couldn't help it, visibly regretting the action, “sorry, sorry, reflex!”

“I think she's concussed now, sergeant…” Scorpia pointed out.

“Catra…” Adora groaned, lifting her head, “why are you doing this?”

Catra's expression went toward surprise again. Then anger. There was a look the soldiers around them hadn't seen in her before, “Because you left me!” She hissed, “and because the colonel's gonna kill me if I don't bring you back!”

She grabbed the lieutenant's arm and pulled her to her feet, “Now c'mon! Enough being the Manchurian Candidate, and let's go! Or do I need to hit you again?”

“Hit the deck!” Someone yelled, and Catra shoved Adora back to the ground as a brace of fire ripped through the air she'd just been in.

Scorpia returned fire, shooting at the rooftops, where they could just make out a short girl ducking back behind cover with an AK-47.

“Hold your fire, dammit!” Adora snarled, trying to get out from under Catra.

“So these are the people you listen to?!” Catra demanded.

Adora finally managed to get her off, and shoved Scorpia’s rifle down, “Glimmer! Fuir! Fuir! Get outta here!”

The girl’s head popped up again, and Adora gestured wildly, “ _Get out of here!_ ”

Catra got to her feet, but couldn’t shoot before the girl disappeared. Adora’s gaze turned toward Entrapta, still crouched nearby behind cover, and the radio on her back. She locked eyes with Catra for a moment, then both dove at the radio operator.

Entrapta was tugged this way and that as the lieutenant and staff sergeant wrestled with the radio and the handset.

Adora managed to get the handset under her, and pressed the talk button, “Klondike, this is Blue 1-actual! Call off the attack! Cease fire! Cease fire! We’ve got blue-on-blue contact! Repeat, blue-on-blue contact! This is a direct order! Cease fire!”

Catra pried the handset out of her hands, hearing the helicopter pilots requesting confirmation.

The lieutenant pulled the device back, the situation devolving into a tug-of-war battle.

She managed to yell out a confirmation code, before Scorpia could intervene and Catra could finally get it back again.

Scorpia held both of Adora’s arms pinned to her sides, and she looked around at the other squad members, “someone give me a hand!

Another soldier quickly walked forward to help restrain the lieutenant. Catra still held the radio, and was watching with an unfocused expression.

“Uh...staff sergeant?” Entrapta asked, slowly getting to her feet, “Do we want to cancel the order?”

Catra still watched Adora. She blinked, then looked at the handset. She looked around at the village around them, at the areas where the tunnels supposedly were. She remembered the expressions on the villagers’ faces, how _terrified_ they were. Of American soldiers.

Of _her_.

“Negative,” she said reluctantly, pushing the handset back into the radio operator’s hands, “Make sure it’s confirmed, then call HQ. We need some tunnel rats in here, but tell them intel was wrong. It’s no major base at all. Minor resistance, but…”

She groaned, and pointed at the soldier returning to her task of burning the roofs, “Hey, belay that order for a minute!”

The staff sergeant turned back to the lieutenant. To Adora's surprise, there was no anger, only a monumental sadness and utter betrayal.

"Catra…" she spoke, and stopped. She didn't know what to say.

Catra's expression finally shifted to anger. She waved toward the LZ, "Scorpia, get her out of here. I don't want to see her again."

Scorpia blinked, then nodded, "uh... certainly. Lieutenant?"

Adora hesitated for a moment, then plodded off. Entrapta looked between her and Catra, looking confused.

Catra sighed, and grabbed her vest's straps, "Radioman stays with platoon leader on the ground, corporal. C'mon."

"Oh! Okay!"

The sergeant looked back at the lieutenant.

Adora didn’t look back, but looked to the side slightly.

“Alpha mike foxtrot…” Catra muttered, then rushed off.


End file.
